


Unfinished (As He Left It)

by n0cturnal_spirit



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: 20-ish!Leo, 24-ish!Girolamo, Historicaly (In)/accurate, Leo muses about art a lot, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Series, Slow Build, a little after Verocchio gives Leo his own workshop, long-haired!Girolamo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7988146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0cturnal_spirit/pseuds/n0cturnal_spirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonardo da Vinci's reputation has apparently reached outside Florence, and at that none other than the Lord of Imola, Count Girolamo Riario himself. He invites the artist to his castle and promises to act as his patron and sponsor his work. Leo finds the proposal intriguing and soon he and Zo are on their way to Imola.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set four years before the beginning of the series. I imagine Girolamo like what he looked like during that scene in Lucrezia's flashback when the false pope took the ring from the true one - with the long hair we all love. Leo is the barely-adult from the scene of his own flashback - the one where Verocchio gives him his own workshop.  
> Historically, Girolamo is indeed the Lord of Imola, even though that's never mentioned in the series. However, I used their age difference from the series to fit the plot of this better (which, I presume, is about four or five years).  
> My goal for this is to connect it to the beginning of the series and not have to change the canon plot. How I get there, I've still to find out, and I'm taking you along!  
> Since English isn't my first language, my Italian is even worse, and this is not beta-read, I would like to apologize for any mistakes that you find along the way (please notify me, so I can correct them all).  
> Hope you enjoy reading this, I will try and update as often as I can, fingers crossed I won't abandon it, probably shouldn't have started it just before the beginning of school, but it's too late now, anyway! All the feedback is appreciated, especially the constructive criticism!
> 
> Reference for Riario's appearence - http://forsakenwitchery.tumblr.com/post/82591824209/riario-rocking-the-long-hair-this-is-like-super  
> Reference for Leo's appearence - https://66.media.tumblr.com/741d9c2316cc5b16516fdada1e058fb8/tumblr_nit7stVuIg1qc4070o10_400.gif

Leonardo was just finishing the designs for his flying machine as his best friend Zo barged into his studio as if casually entering his own home (then again, he spent more of his time with Leo than where he lived, so it had stopped mattering to either of them a long time ago),

“Leo, hey, look what I’ve got for you!” since his cheerfulness was not granted with any attention, he sighed and made his way to the artist, waving said something in front of his face. 

Da Vinci simply swatted away at it, for it was as an annoying fly for him,

“Not now, I’m busy.” He said, more to himself than Zo, adding a few notes on the papers laid down on the mess of a worktable in front of him.

“Well, then you wouldn’t mind if I were to read this very impressively looking letter, addressed specifically to you, now, would you?”

For all the years he and Leo have been friends, Zo had learned maybe not all, though yet many of the things that would get his friend’s attention, no matter how lost into his own thoughts he was. And one of the most successful of them all, as he was yet again been proven, was to try and take any of Leo’s stuff that had his name on it (or had been specifically told not to touch) without his friend’s permission. Zo couldn’t exactly pinpoint why it bothered the other so much – the man was a mess, leaving a trail of things after himself wherever he went, anyway – but he loved annoying the artist whenever he could. He was reaching for one of the knives scattered on the table to open the letter with, a mischievous smirk on his lips, awaiting the reaction, when Leo snatched the paper out of his hand, throwing Zo one of those ‘please stop bothering me’ looks. Zo rewarded him with a grin and went to sit on top of one of the many cupboards surrounding the worktable. Unfortunately, on top of it, and preventing him from sitting, were messily laid long forgotten papers and brushes. He collected the brushes in one of the used cups laying around – it had been full of either wine or ale, which had evaporated long ago, left unfinished by the absent-minded artist – and was stacking the papers, when his friend’s voice got his attention,

“Where did you get it? I mean, why did they give it to you, and not to me?”

When the cupboard top was finally rid of art supplies, Zoroaster sat onto it, turning to face da Vinci. The other had currently forgotten about his earlier designs, charcoal stick laid unmindfully on the table, his whole attention focused on the letter in his hands, still unopened, fingers running over the wax stamp its back.

“The messenger was looking for you at Verocchio’s studio, and since you sent me to fetch you some wood from there, and was conveniently coming here afterwards anyway, Verocchio asked me to give it to you. Which I now have, you’re welcome, by the way.”

“That’s the mark of Imola. What would they want to do with me, and to send me a letter…”

“Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Open it, and find out!” If he was being honest with himself, Zo was just as curious as da Vinci on this one. He barely held himself in one place as Leo broke the seal and _finally_ opened the letter, then reading it once, twice, then lowering it and letting out a small sound that Zo had learned to understand as a snort.

“What’s so funny? They sent you a joke of some sorts? A bad poem or a horrible piece of art you’re now making fun of?” Zo hated being kept in the dark about things and Leo knew it – maybe that was him paying him back for annoying him earlier.

Then Leo looked over at him, with that arrogant smile on his face, and Zo knew his torture was over,

“The Lord of Imola, Count Girolamo Riario, has heard of my ‘many talents’ and wants to ‘act as my patron’ and ‘sponsor the many works I would create in his humble, yet always open to the beauty of art, home’.” The tone Leo used was enough for Zo to know that his friend was simultaneously quoting and mocking this Count, and Zo couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, as if you’re going to leave _your own fucking studio_ ” (Verocchio had given him the studio only last year and it was still hard for both Leo and Zo to believe that this was in fact real) “to go off to wherever the fuck that was(“Imola, Zo.”) just because they wrote you a letter. Ha, they have no idea who they’re dealing with here!”

“Actually, it might be interesting to go and see what this Girolamo Riario wants. After all, he writes he has heard of my talents, and that surely includes my reputation of leaving work unfinished.”

Zo suspiciously eyed the sly smile on da Vinci’s face – that could only mean trouble and Zo was reluctant to have problems so soon after the last time (just last week Leo had gotten too cocky in front of some of the Officers of the Night, a fight had started, and Zo had once again to defend his friend and get him out of the pub as fast as possible, before they end up in prison, or worse – hanged). Yet, Zo knew that if Leo was going, he would be sure to follow – someone had to make sure the dumbass didn’t die. That final part was what Zo said to Leo, of course pretending that would be the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, but Leo knew better,

“Good, we’re leaving at sunrise.”


	2. The Lord of Imola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo and Zo arrive at Imola. Leo likes what he sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let me just add that Riario and Zo do NOT hate each other in this story!   
> Also, here's reference for the Rocca Sforzesca - http://museiciviciimola.it/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Percorso-Rocca-Sforzesca.jpg

It took Leo and Zo two days to reach Imola, only stopping to spend the night at Palazzuolo di Romagna, and in the late afternoon of the second day they were below the walls of Rocca Sforzesca – the castle, where the Count expected Leonardo. Unfortunately, there was a ditch surrounding the castle and they had to call up the guards to let down a bridge.

“State your reason for wanting to be granted entrance!” the guard on top of the outer south-western tower was already pointing an arrow at them, like that was going to stop Leo from approaching his goal further. He put on his most encouraging smile (which, according to Zo, made him look even more untrustworthy than usual) and lifted his hands, palms open and facing the guard, in a gesture of innocence,

“My name is Leonardo da Vinci and I have been invited by your Lord, Count Girolamo Riario, who wishes to make use of my artistic talents.”

That, however, didn’t seem to be sufficient for the guard, as he drew the string of his bow further. Leo scoffed at that, taking out the letter out of his leather bag and showing it off to the man on top of the tower,

“Here’s the proof, if you don’t believe me. You can even go and ask your Lord about me. I’m sure he’ll confirm my identity and the authenticity of this letter.”

No answer followed; instead, the bow and arrow disappeared from view and the bridge began lowering down. Leo and Zo grinned triumphantly at each other, the artist stuffing the letter once again in his bag, and prepared the horses for a couple more meters of walking with the extra weight of humans on their backs.

As they went through the Porta del Soccorso and reached the inside courtyard of the castle, the Cortile del Soccorso, they found three people already waiting for them – the two on the sides were obviously the guards, dressed in matching uniforms with the Bolognese Coat of Arms sewed on over their hearts. The one in the middle, however, caught Leo’s interest immediately – dressed in an  open overcoat, despite the heat of May, with puffy sleeves, buttoned only at his lower abdomen, over an open, but not revealingly so, white shirt; the artist’s gaze fell down to the tight black trousers that beautifully hugged those long, well sculpted legs, the left tight accompanied by a sword, the right – a dagger; green eyes finally found their way up to the man’s face, adorned with long locks of slightly curled bistre coloured hair; a well kempt beard surrounded delicious lips with the colour of a fine rosè that were currently forming a satisfied barely-there smirk; upwards there were cheekbones one could probably cut their finger on if one dared to touch, between them a long, but not horribly so, pointed nose, and above them _those eyes_ – Leonardo could spend aeons trying to map out those rich brown galaxies and still end up getting lost somewhere along the way.

A movement beside him made Leo tear his gaze away from the mesmerizing brown orbs and he found Zo, already off his horse, giving his friend a pointed look. Leo quickly dismounted his own horse, walked to the man and, only a meter or so from him, bowed down arrogantly, as only he knew how to,

“I am Leonardo da Vinci, as you already know, I suppose, and you must be the Lord of Imola, Count Girolamo Riario.” Despite Leonardo’s cocked eyebrow, his sentence was more a statement than a question. This only made the Count widen his smirk and the artist’s fingers itched to reach for a charcoal stick and sketch these remarkable features.

“Your presumption is indeed correct, _artista_.” Leo’s breath hitched and the Lord bit his lip – to stop a chuckle, perhaps. “I am more than delighted that you have decided to accept my invitation. I can assure you that neither your talent nor your work will go to waste under my patronage.”

“I immensely hope so, otherwise me coming here would have been a waste of time.” Da Vinci forced himself to look away, _anywhere_ but that face, lest he falls victim to his desire and risks not only his, but Zo’s life as well in the process.

“I see you’ve brought yourself a companion?” Leo’s eyes snapped back to the Count and found him looking at Zo with an expression not as pleasant as the one he had given Leo.

“This is my closest friend, Zoroaster da Peretola. I hope it won’t be an issue if he were to stay here with me.” Leonardo gave the Lord a daring look and the other simply smiled, clearly pleased with himself – or perhaps Leo?

“Anything you may require, _artista_.” Leo could swear the Count knew what the simple title spoken in that breathy and raspy voice did to him and was surely doing it on purpose. “Now, you will be staying in the chambers of the south-western tower – there has been a chamber prepared for you, along with a workshop full of all the supplies I thought of that you may need. If something is missing, do not hesitate to ask whomever to fetch it for you. As for your friend, I’ll send someone to have the chamber next to yours prepared. If there are no questions, I suggest you go get a few hours rest before you accompany me at dinner, when we’ll discuss the type of work you will be doing here.”

“May I ask where the dinner will be served?” as compelling as rest sounded at the time, Leo could not wait to explore the castle and learn many, if not all, of its secrets. He was already looking about, mentally sketching the courtyard, the palazzetto, what he presumed were the master chambers and the keep in the centre. His attention, however, was once again captured by the Count’s voice,

“I’ll send for you when the time comes. Now the maid is going to show you to your chambers and I’ll have men take care of your horses. If there is something else you might need, as I already pointed out, simply ask and you will be given.” With that, the Lord nodded at him with a smirk, and turned to go, eyes quickly flashing over Zo in recognition.

“What a sunshine, eh?” Leo could practically see the sarcasm coating Zo’s words. He turned to his friend with a laugh,

“Well, at least he isn’t fat, old and creepy.” At that Zo burst out laughing along with Leo and they only stopped when a young maid cleared her throat beside them,

“Excuse me, _signori_ , but I was instructed to show you to your chambers, if you would follow me.” She turned to the tower and started walking towards it, urging the two friends to quickly gather what little luggage they had brought with them and go after her.

Once in his own bedchamber, Leonardo dropped his bags on the large bed and looked around the room – the windows presented him with the view not only of the valleys surrounding Imola, but also a part of the south-eastern tower along with the southern wall of the castle; his bedchamber’s door exited on the small balcony on top of the wall, connecting this tower to the other two, along with the palazzetto and the central keep; he could observe the courtyard whenever he pleased, which he had every intention of regularly doing.

With a smile on his face, Leo walked back into his chamber, where a full bath already awaited him. He gladly stripped off his clothing, dusty and muddy from the road, and slowly entered the tub, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. Once in, he let his mind wander; unsurprisingly, it went back to the two brown galaxies he was so eager to explore, even more so than the castle itself. He reached out for his leather bag, digging out a charcoal stick and one of his sketchbooks, and started mapping out the _oh_ , so intriguing features – the delicious lips, reminding him of the soft rosè wine he loved drinking; the strong jaw, adorned by the thick beard that would scratch his fingertips as he caressed it; the hollows of the cheeks and the sharp cheekbones, a game of contrast of their own; the nose that would press against one’s cheek when the Lord kissed, perfectly dividing the two halves of the face; the eyebrows, whose ends always went up when the Lord smiled; the high forehead, behind which was surely hidden a sharp intellect; and _those eyes_. Leo wanted to study them further, under better lighting, with different emotions behind them. He sketched them over and over again, filled short of ten pages with them from different angles; yet, it was not enough.

The water had long gone lukewarm, so he set aside his art supplies, scrubbed himself as best as he could, and reached for the linen cloth to dry himself off while getting out of the tub. He had no idea how much time he’d spent in the water, but it was not yet dark, so he assumed he could take some more time and further explore his chamber and the workshop they’d prepared for him. He pulled on a pair of spare breeches and a simple white shirt he’d brought with him and ruffled his hair, styling it in his usual spikes. The used clothes he put in a pile next to the bath, so that the maid would clean them along with the tub.

As he looked around the room, he could see a desk under one of the windows with a chair in front of it; on one side of it stood a cupboard with four books on top. Leo went to them and found a Holy Bible (he wouldn’t be reading this, but could use it to weigh down loose papers), a copy of Dante’s _Divine Comedy_ (that he could read once more, and then use the same way as the Bible), and two empty sketchbooks (they were of a better quality than his own, he’d give that to the Lord – he either knew something about art or had people who did). He divided the books in two piles – the Bible with Dante’s _Comedy_ on top on the further side of the cupboard, the two sketchbooks on the other, closer to the desk and, therefore, easier for him to reach them when needed.

Next to his bed, he found a two-winged wardrobe, which contained an extra blanket and pillow. Leo took his clothes’ bag and, even though they weren’t that many, put them on the shelves inside the wardrobe. His leather jacket he hanged on the back of the chair and emptied his bag of supplies on the desk. The three sketchbooks he put on top of one another in the corner of the desk closest to the cupboard; he shoved the few brushes in the opposite corner; the loose papers with his almost finished designs he laid in the centre of the desk; more than a dozen charcoal sticks were left scattered across the whole length of the desk.

When all of his possessions were as well-arranged as they would get, Leo decided to prepare for the dinner. He took the belt holding his sword and, of course, a sketchbook with a tube full of charcoal sticks, and fastened it around his waist. He pulled on his boots and dressed up in his leather jacket, leaving it, and his white shirt, wide open at the chest. Now that he was ready, he had nothing else to do, but wait to be called to dinner. He went back to his desk and started stacking the scattered charcoal sticks on top of one another in the form of a pyramid. He was putting the last one on the top, when a voice called out from the door,

“Signor da Vinci, Lord Riario is expecting you for dinner.”


	3. The Artisan's Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's dinnertime: revealing the first commission and Leo's workshop.

Leonardo found the maid, who had called him, and Zo already at his door, waiting. Zo had cleaned up, as well – still wearing his signature puffy-sleeved jacket, of course – and had had a short nap – unlike Leo, who could go on without sleep for days.

The two friends followed the maid over the wall to the south-eastern tower, which Leo assumed to be where most dinners and other events were being held, considering its closeness to the Lord’s apartments. They went down on a flight of stairs and found themselves in what appeared to be the Grand hall of the castle, with its table already made and the Lord waiting for them at the opposite end,

“I’m delighted to see that you have had the time to freshen up and rest before dinner. Now we wouldn’t be obliged to cut it prematurely due to your exhaustion.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to miss dinner and the chance to find out what my new patron expects of me, now would we, Zoroaster?” Leo met the Count’s expression – a pleased smile, eyebrow corners lifted, eyelids dropped halfway, but eyes sparkling nevertheless – with an almost-challenging smirk of his own.

“You had me at dinner!” Zo was being (mostly) sarcastic, but da Vinci, knowing his friend well, knew he was also interested in their host’s motives.

They approached the table as the Count sat himself at the head, Leonardo at his right and Zoroaster next to him. A young servant filled their goblets with red wine, and the Lord lifted his,

“A toast, to you, _artista_ , and our new-found alliance, for may it be long and fruitful.”

Leo raised his own goblet and nodded to the Count, one eyebrow slightly cocked, a smirk dancing on his lips. The three of them drank, the two friends letting out satisfied low hums,

“This is a very fine wine, Count. Is it locally produced or imported?” Zo took another sip of his own goblet, trying to remember if he’d ever tasted a sort like this somewhere before.

“It is of my own vineyard. Perhaps tomorrow I can show it to you, it is just outside the northern wall. Although, there wouldn’t be any grape, I’m afraid, since it is still May.” The Count’s lips twitched, and Leo swore to himself that he’d someday make him fully, honestly laugh.

Their meal was served – a lamb with vegetables as a side dish – and Zo clasped his hands in front of his face, impatient to start,

“Compliments to the chef, this looks magnificent!”

The Count did that almost-smile again and Leo’s fingers started their dance, outlining the fascinating features of the face before him. As the Count’s eyes met his, however, the dance was put to a halt – the browns were reflecting the soft light of the candles on the table and seemed almost golden; da Vinci went through all colour combinations that came to his mind, but none was the right shade, none could portray these eyes as they were – so _alive_ , so full of emotion, yet always calculating the situation, always holding something back.

But, as the Count blinked, the magic was gone and Leo averted his eyes. He took the fork in his hand and hesitated a bit, before pushing the meat aside a tad and pricking some of the vegetables – a mixture of spinach and red onion, dressed with vinegar, honey, butter and mustard, richly decorated with Pecorino Romano. Leo tasted it and had to admit Zo was right – compliments to the chef, indeed.

They ate in silence for a while longer and the artist felt it was his turn to break it,

“So, _conte_ , in your letter you wrote that my reputation has reached you. That includes, I believe, my tendency to accept many commissions but finish only few, correct?”

“I’ve also heard of your exceptional intellect and I would dare say I understand your need to constantly move on to new, more intriguing projects. This is, in fact, one of the reasons I invited you here and proposed to sponsor your works – I’m curious to see if my commissions would prove to be interesting enough for you to finish them all.” The expression he wore was nothing short of challenging and Leo found himself wanting to reach for the sketchbook at his belt and give full freedom to his desire to capture it on paper. Instead, he gripped his fork tighter and took another bite of vegetables.

“May I ask what exactly your commissions for me would be?” Not moving his eyes away from the Count’s, Leo lifted his goblet and took a long sip, making sure to have his throat on display as he swallowed. He was left satisfied with the sharp intake of breath from the Count, as he himself reached for his goblet – perhaps Leo’s little show had worked better than he thought and the Count’s mouth had gone dry?

“The chapel of this castle has yet to be decorated – I would like you to be the one, whose _affreschi_ would complete its look and, thus, its purpose.”

“Are there any specific scenes or figures you would like me to paint?”

“It is all up to you – you are _l’artista_ , after all.” That _smirk_ was back, and Leo had to bite his tongue to prevent a traitorous moan from coming out. “I will show you the chapel after dinner, if you’d like.”

Da Vinci nodded and turned back to eating, still not touching the meat. If the Count wanted to give him a challenge, then so be it – he would not only prove his worth, but would do his best to leave his challenger stunned!

“Signor da Peretola, I’m curious, what exactly is your occupation?” the Count’s expression while addressing Zo was one of polite interest – nothing alike the look full of emotion he was observing Leo with.

“Oh, I, uh, supply Leo, and sometimes other artist in Verocchio’s studio, with the things they need for their commissions. Or in Leo’s case – inventions. On occasion I even help him or partake in his experiments.”

“So, a merchant, then?” Da Vinci found it hard to keep himself from laughing at the Count’s assumption; fortunately, he succeeded.

“Not exactly the word I’d use, but you could say that, yeah.” Zo realised both he and Leo knew that _merchant_ was not at all what he was. But, what the Count didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

If Leo had to describe what Zo did, he would start with always being there for Leo, whenever needed – Zo was surely the most loyal person Leo knew and would be forever thankful that Zo stuck around even after all the trouble Leo had gotten him into. To be honest, Zo really did bring him supplies not only for his art, but for his experiments as well – including the occasional corpse for his anatomical studies. He’d more than once helped Leo to build the bigger structures he’d needed now and then. Sometimes, Zo would even pose for him to draw, because, if Leo was being sincere, his friend had an excellent physique, an extremely attractive smile and a handsome face, which, accompanied by the frequently present mischievous spark in his eyes, would turn anyone’s knees weak.  

While Leo reminisced, the servants brought the desserts – a plate of _tiramisù_ each, decorated with a fresh couple of mint leaves; a dish of caramelized apples; a large bowl of oranges and lemons for all three of them. Da Vinci moved onto the first plate, enjoying the sweetness of it, but was interrupted by the Count,

“Was the lamb not prepared to your taste, _artista_?” At the confused look he received, the Count elaborated, “I noticed you haven’t even touched it. Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I’m sure it is well prepared. I just don’t like to eat anything that has eyes.”

That seemed to amuse the Count, as his lips twitched again,

“Very well, then. I shall notify the chef of your preferences. Anything else I shall have in mind before speaking to him?”

“No, only this. Very considerate of you, _conte_ , I’m touched.” Leo smiled, in a manner more suggestive than thankful.

 “Anything you need, _artista_.” The smile the Count returned was nothing short of Leo’s own; then again – two could play a game.

 Soon, they finished their desserts and the Count reminded Leo about his earlier offer to show him the chapel he’d be working in.

“In that case, have a good night, Count, Leo.” Zo nodded to them both and walked off to his chamber for the night.

Leo followed the Count to a door just next to this of the Great hall and they entered a room a bit bigger than Leo’s temporary bedchamber. Nothing, except the big cross on the wall with a candle on each side, indicated the purpose of the room. Leo looked around, already thinking of what he could draw, and maybe even construct from wood, to make it truly a chapel, and at the same time impress his patron.

“As you can see, nothing has been done here. You have the full freedom to start wherever and however you’d like, without having to take anyone else’s work into consideration.” The Count stood a couple of steps away from the artist, watching him with interest, as he assessed the room.

Leo’s fingers were already moving to the rhythm of a melody only he could hear, leaving invisible lines after themselves, creating a design only he could see. He didn’t stop even as he spoke,

“Take me to see my workshop, please, lest I forget my ideas, or have others with a seemingly higher priority.”

“Follow me, then.”

They returned to the Grand hall, which was now being cleaned by the servants, crossed it, and went to another door that opened to reveal a downward spiralling staircase. The Count started to go down and Leonardo lost no time in following; soon, they were in the foundation of the tower and were walking down a corridor – Leo presumed it would take them to the south-western tower, but the Count took a sharp right turn at one point and they found themselves in the courtyard.

“I thought my workshop was next to my bedchamber?” Leo continued to walk behind the Lord, until they reached the palazzetto and both stopped.

“Since the palazzetto has yet to be finished, I thought it would be more convenient if it were here. This way, it’ll be easier for you to start with my next commissions later on.” The Count opened one of the doors and they walked in to find a fully furnished workshop, with not only art supplies, but also some carpenter’s equipment and a large pile of cloth in one of the corners.

“I take it those will be the palazzetto itself and, perhaps, the keep?” Leo walked to the art supplies, finding charcoal sticks, brushes, tubes for paint, blank canvases, sketchbooks, a few feathers and a couple tubes of ink.

“Correct. But, I would suggest you finish the chapel first. It is of more importance to me than these two.”

“It’s so much more fun to do different kinds of work simultaneously.” Leo had already opened one of the sketchbooks and was drawing his designs for the chapel, making some small notes here and there with his other hand. “You might want to retire for the night, _conte_. I tend not to be great company while working.”

“Very well, then. Good night, _artista_.”

Both of da Vinci’s hands stopped moving for a moment at the title. Then, just as fast, they awakened once more and continued their frenetic dance over the pages,

“Good night.”

Leonardo almost didn’t register the sound of a door closing, already lost in his designs and calculations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is proving to be both more fun and exhausting than I initially thought. Also, I can't believe I had to research which was a suitable side dish for lamb and what kind of desserts did the Italians eat during that time (tiramisù is actually my most favourite dessert ever, so I was happy to find out how old it is in fact). I'm sorry if I get too carrie away with describing, and I'm awfully sorry if any of the three is written out of character (please notify me and give advise, if so). It makes me so happy people are actually reading this, tbqh. So long it's going pretty well, but once school starts, we'll have to hope and see...


	4. Modus Operandi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo and Riario go over the designs for the commissions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the Soundtrack for Series 3 (it's a great track!)  
> Reference for the chapel (of course, the one in the story isn't exactly the same - the one on the picture has a door between the windows, whereas the one here doesn't; its entrance is on the opposite side, where the alter in this picture is) - http://rubens.anu.edu.au/htdocs/surveys/italren/pics.arch/0255/25504.JPG

Morning found Leonardo still working tirelessly on the designs for his commissions. One of the sketchbooks was almost full and some of the wood had black lines on it, marking out the pieces that Leo would later work with.

“I couldn’t find you in your chambers, _artista_.”

The tip of the charcoal stick that was in the artist’s hand broke at da Vinci’s abrupt cease of movement as he heard the Count’s voice a couple meters from him,

“I didn’t know you would be needing me in the morning, _conte_. Not that this surprise isn’t pleasant, of course.” Leo had turned to his patron, regarding him with a smirk.

“Have you even slept? Did you take time to have breakfast? Is there something you need for your work?” The Count sounded genuinely concerned, his eyes opened wider than usual, searching Leo’s face for the answer, lest his lips not grant him with it. Leo would be lying if he said he wasn’t touched; still, he stored that exact expression for later to draw and study further.

“I don’t need much sleep, I will eventually get something to eat, and no, I have all I need for the moment. You needn’t worry for me – as long as my ideas come out as I intend them to, everything’s fine.” Da Vinci grinned, his nose scrunching a bit, and the Count nodded, a smile on his lips.

“In that case, may I see the work you have done so far?” The voice of the Count betrayed nothing of what he was feeling, but his eyes told Leonardo everything he needed to know – the Lord was barely holding back his excitement (another emotion to study later) and Leo nodded, beckoning him to come to the worktable.

“This here” Leo flicked through the sketchbook until he reached a page somewhere in the middle and laid it on the table, “is a plan of the chapel from above. Since one of the walls has only windows on it, I’ve yet to draw my drafts for there. The opposite wall, the one with the door, will be easy to do – an arch above the entrance with a cherub’s face on top and vines along its length. There’ll be plaster forms representing columns in the corners, as well as two on the left and right walls and four on the others. On the left wall, I intend to put a big oaken cross with Jesus crucified on it. I’m not yet content with my designs for the altar that is to be put in front of the crucifix – please have in mind I’m no expert on all the symbolism in Christianity. On the right wall I intent to paint the Madonna with the young Christ.” He went through half a dozen pages, stopping on one to reveal sketches of a woman with a child in her arms,” As you can see, it’s nearly finished. Although, I might decide to re-do it later, we’ve yet to see. Now, on the sides of both the Madonna and the Crucifix, I’ve left some space for wall chandeliers, here are the designs,” four more pages fluttered, “however, you might need to find a blacksmith for these. As for the palazzetto-“

“You had had the time to work on it, as well?” The Count’s surprise made da Vinci laugh and turn towards him, a cocked eyebrow and an arrogant smile in place,

“I already told you, _conte_ – working on only one thing eventually gets boring. Besides, I haven’t really done as much for the palazzetto as I would’ve hoped for.” The smile was gone as Leo went through the pages once more, this time in the opposite direction, bypassing the sketches of the Madonna. “If I knew what you intended to use it for, then it would be way easier for me to design it properly. I dared to assume you might use it as a gallery, so I focused on the arches above the windows and the entrances. Also, the ceilings – even if there are chandeliers, there’s still space for _affreschi_ , so I thought constellations would be a good idea. However, for this one, I need your opinion or, at least, to know if there is anything in particular you would want for the palazzetto.”

“I am rather fond of the work of the ancients, be it Greek or Roman. The constellations would complement them perfectly, I believe.” The Count was tracing the lines of the sketches with his fingertips and Leo wanted nothing more in this moment than to have these hands on him, tracing the lines of his body instead. His breath hitched as brown eyes turned to him, “I find Homer’s works quite fascinating. Perhaps you could use scenes from there.”

“Of course. But for that I’ll need a copy of both _The Iliad_ and _The Odyssey_ and maybe you could then tell me which parts you like most.” Leo lowered his voice an octave and put on, what he believed to be, his most flirtatious smile.

“I will be sure to deliver them to you myself, then.” It was the Count’s turn to smile at the artist, clearly amused by his demeanour. Then, a shadow of realisation crossed his features. “I had almost forgotten – there was another reason why I was looking for you. Last night I promised you and your friend that I would take you to see the vineyard. I am a man of my word, of course, and have already informed signor da Peretola. He is most likely ready and it is incredibly rude to keep him waiting, don’t you think, _artista_?”

“As much as I would love to accompany you, _conte_ , I will have to refuse. I have so much more work on the chapel and haven’t even started the keep yet. So, maybe another time?”

“Maybe another time.” The amused smile returned and Leo found himself reaching for the closest charcoal stick and piece of paper to capture it in lines before it was gone. “I will have someone bring you some bread and cheese shortly – I have no intention of letting you starve to death. I would also advise you to get some sleep – your endurance might be exceptional, but you must not overwork yourself.”

“Of course, _conte_.” But Leo knew he wouldn’t be sleeping soon – his desire to study all these expressions was overwhelming and would not let him rest until satisfied.

Nevertheless, the Count nodded, still smiling, and turned to walk away, leaving the artist once again to his work.

No sooner had the door closed than da Vinci had a charcoal stick in his hand, a new sketchbook in the other, and was finally giving in to what lately drove him nearly mad – the brilliant eyes, giving way to the swirling wind of emotions behind them; the lips he barely held himself back from touching, always schooled into a carefully calculated smile (he wondered what they would look like pulled in a frown or stretched in anger, showing sharp teeth in between);  the defined jaw and the pale throat he wanted to mark with his own teeth; the expression of concern that made the already big eyes go wide and draw all the attention to themselves; the look of amusement that had the corners of the delicious lips hide in the beard; the faint realisation, hidden under the still dominant amusement; the eyes, the eyes, _the eyes_ … page after page, filled with his desire, until his hands were coated in charcoal and he no longer could draw without smearing over the sketches.

Leonardo sighed, letting the book and the stick fall on the worktable. Now, no longer driven by such a mighty lust, he found himself exhausted – perhaps he would take the Count’s advice and sleep for a few hours; food didn’t sound half as bad right at that moment and he was glad when a maid came in, bringing the promised bread and cheese. Leo thanked her and decided to take it with him to his room, where he would rest and be able to return to his work as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I spent so much time researching small chapels in Renaissance castles, what kind of affreschi were suitable for them and what symbolism certain things had - and then not end up using them in this chapter (still bookmarked them for later, though). I ruined the chronology of my studies in Art History (still at The Third Egyptian Dynasty), but I think I'm going to learn much more extra stuff while writing this fic than I need to know ("the more you know - the better" they said, "it'll be fun" they said... it is, tho, ngl).  
>  I'm sorry that this chapter is so short, but I've been busy with preparations for school (it starts tomorrow) and I don't have much free time (and will have even less, from now on). I will try and update regularly, I promise (I've got enough boring af English classes). I also apologise for the mistakes that are surely there.   
> Thank you so much for reading this (and for all the kind comments), it truly means so much!  
> Also, (spoilers!) there'll be more of Zo in the next chapter!


	5. Gli Amici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo and Zo hang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't abandoned this fic!!! I am so terribly sorry about the huge delay, I just haven't the time. Unfortunately, I don't have a house elf to do my studies, homework and projects for me (if someone knows where I can get one, though, please, let me know).  
> I hope you like the chapter, even if it isn't proof-read (time is short, I'm sorry).

As Leo awoke, the sun was already high in the sky – a clear sign that it had to be around lunchtime. He rose from the bed, quickly pulling on a pair of pants and a (mostly clean) shirt, washed his face with the already cold water from the bowl a servant had been thoughtful enough to put out for him, and went on a quest to find the kitchens. He already regretted skipping lunch and dinner yesterday, and now breakfast, and strongly hoped Zo wouldn’t find out – he would only lecture Leo, as he had times before, on the importance of food and why one must never neglect it. Seriously, it wasn’t like Leo didn’t already know that – he just hadn’t the time!

Luckily for him, he met a servant on his way to, hm, he wasn’t sure exactly where, and asked him for directions. In no time was he sweet-talking the chef into letting him get whatever he wanted to his temporary workshop (it wasn’t surprising when it worked splendidly and he went off to the palazzetto with a small basket full of lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, some olives and a few slices of bread).

Da Vinci was about to reach for one of his sketchbooks (the one he believed the designs for the capella to be in), his mouth stuffed with vegetables, when the doors opened and his best friend walked in,

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Lost in work already?” Zo stopped on his right side, turning to sit on the table and stealing a slice of cheese from the basket.

“Wouldn’t say lost – as you can see, I even took the time to sleep and feed myself.”

“Of course you would, food is the most impo-“

“We’ve been over this, Zo. A few times, at that.” With a sigh and a pointed look at his friend, the artist finally got to his book and shuffled through it, finding the design he needed.

“It’s not like it has worked before… Anyway, do you want to know how the visit to the vineyards went?” Zo had that tone he used only when a certain something happened, which he thought he could use to either annoy Leo or make fun of him.

“You tell me – do I?” He chose to answer as he always did in these situations – feign disinterest, until you’ve assessed the situation, so that later on you can choose whether to slap Zo across the head or try your best to hide your excitement (unfortunately, the second option never seemed to work – Zo knew him too well).

“On the whole way there, the Count asked me all kinds of questions about you. I swear, if he wasn’t so nice as to spend so much of his undoubtedly precious time with me on visitations I could just as well go by myself, I’d think he has an ulterior motive concerning you.”

At that, Leo snorted and looked at Zo with a cocked eyebrow,

“And what exactly did he ask? I doubt it was about my deepest, darkest secrets.” The latter was said with a theatrical whisper, making the other laugh,

“Do not worry, my friend! Your secrets are safe with me!” Continuing the game, Zo put a hand over his heart and used a stately tone. “He wanted to know for how long you’ve been an artist, how you got to Verocchio’s studio, if you had any partners, any apprentices… simple things like that.”

“And what did you answer?” Leo didn’t even look at Zo, not wanting to give away the excitement bubbling up in him. Instead, he reached for a charcoal stick and scribbled a few (unnecessary) lines over the capella designs.

“Well, I told him the story with the shield, then how your father sold you off to Verocchio. As for partners, I presumed he meant romantic, so I told him that no one has held your attention long enough for a relationship. And the apprentices – I mentioned all the people, who’d chop off their own hands for the chance to have you take their kid in. Believe it or not, that almost made him laugh!” Zo looked pleased with himself, but Leo felt a pang of jealousy – he should be the one making the Count laugh! Then, realising what kind of thoughts he was having, he shook his head to drive them away – no one should step between his and Zo’s friendship, it would always come first. He smiled up at his friend,

“Come now, I don’t believe the only topic of conversation was about me. You went there for the wine, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, he told me at lengths about how they made it – though, I suspect he left some things out, wouldn’t want me to steal his recipe and all. We also talked a bit about the city. We should go and explore it, you know. You can even map it out.”

“Yeah, we’ll come to that, eventually. But, before that, I’m going to need you to help me with some of the things I’m going to be making.”

“Whenever have I let you down, my friend?” Zo grinned at him, jumping off the table and turning around, so he could see Leo’s sketches as they discussed what had to be done.

“Now, first, I’ll need two thick oaken beams – they probably have some timber around the castle or even in the city.”

“What are you gonna do with them?” Leo flipped a few pages, getting to the designs for the crucified Christ. “You’re making a fucking sculpture?!”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You and sculpture don’t get along well, Leo, we both know that.”

“It’s true, that sculpture is a lesser art-“

“Don’t bullshit me, you just suck at it.”

“I do not!”

“Oh, yeah, you definitely do. The last time you tried to sculpt anything, it ended up looking like a creature freshly crawled out of hell.”

“How do you know it wasn’t supposed to be one?”

“Because Verocchio asked you to help him with the commission from some rich ass. I was there, Leo, you can’t deny you fucked it up.”

Silence fell between them, Zo giving the artist a ‘you know I’m right’ look, and Leo pouting at him. It didn’t last more than half a minute and Zo gave up and sighted,

“It’s not like that’s going to stop you, is it?”

“Of course not!”

“Of course not. Okay, so, moving on. Is that the only thing you need me for?”

“No, I’ll need you for the altar, as well. But only for the construction work – I already have enough wood here.” Leo pointed to the pile in the corner of the room.

“Are we doing it now?”

“There are still some details I’m not happy with on the design. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Sure. What about paints? Do you have ingredients here or…?”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m going to need sulphur. And maybe a bit of gold, too. But I should probably ask the Count for that, do you reckon?” Leo smirked at Zo and the other chuckled,

“As much as he’s devoted to you, I doubt there’s something he won’t give you.”

“We’ll find out soon enough, I think.”

They laughed again and Zo clasped Leo on the back.

“I better get going – the materials aren’t going to get themselves.” Leo smiled at him and nodded.

But before Zo opened the door, he turned back to Leo and added,

“You know, on the way back, the Count asked if you always overwork yourself like this.”

“And what did you tell him?” Leo didn’t dare turn, lest his friend see his pleased expression.

“I told him that for all the five years I’ve known you, you’ve done it more times than I can count.”

“Well, it is the truth.”

“It is, isn’t it. Don’t over-exhaust yourself, Leo. We don’t want to trouble our host, now, do we?” Leo could hear the smile in Zo’s voice and laughed in return.

“Of course not. Now, go off, I need to work.”

“Be right back!”

Zo let the doors close louder than necessary behind his back and Leo returned to his sketches, amusedly shaking his head at his friend’s behaviour.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leo's belittling of the art of sculpture is actually historically accurate (at least, according to Michelangelo in his diaries, and I, personally, choose to believe him, as, we all know, he is a geniuos sculpture and knows what's what about). Seriously, though, don't act like Leo and shittalk a thing, just because you can't do it.  
> And if there's something wrong with the characters, I'm sorry, I tried (I'm tired).
> 
> Also, if someone remembers why Zo and Girolamo started hating each other (other than maybe Riario torturing Nico?), please let me know! I don't have the time to rewatch the series (even though I'd love to).


End file.
